The courtroom of the royal court felt like a gladiatorial arena filled with hungry wolves. Marble chairs surrounded a central podium, and each seat was filled with nobles who had come to witness Askaroth's destruction. They had not come for justice—they had come for entertainment.
Askaroth stood in the center of the circle of scorn, his hands still bound in golden manacles that now felt like red-hot iron. The branding scar on his shoulder throbbed with a strange rhythm, as if something inside was stirring, waiting. The warmth he had felt since the ritual of removing the insignia grew stronger, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. Now was not the time to comprehend the changes.
"The trial of Askaroth, once of House Valdris, shall begin," the voice of Grand Judge Malachar echoed through the chamber. The old man with the long white beard sat in the highest chair, his scepter gleaming with enchantments that made his voice sound like an echo from another realm.
"The charges: High treason, conspiracy against the crown, and abuse of position as Royal Advisor."
Each word struck like an arrow, but Askaroth showed no reaction. He had prepared himself for this.
What he had not prepared for was who would testify first.
"First witness," the Grand Judge raised his cane, "Lady Seraphina Blackthorne."
The name was like a blow to the solar plexus. Askaroth felt his world spin as the side door opened and the most familiar figure he knew entered the courtroom. Seraphina—with her flowing black hair like midnight water and her sapphire blue eyes that had once gazed upon him with love—was now walking toward the witness stand with a determined, cold stride.
She was dressed in a blood-red court gown that made her look like a goddess of war, but what struck Askaroth was the expression on her face. There was no warmth there. No memories of the nights they had spent together, planning a future that was now shattered.
There was only cold emptiness.
"Lady Seraphina," the Grand Judge saluted, "do you swear to testify truthfully before this court?"
"I swear," Seraphina's voice sounded like a cracked crystal bell—beautiful but broken. "Upon the honor of House Blackthorne and loyalty to the crown."
Askaroth felt something bitter rise in his throat. Loyalty to the crown? The woman who had whispered to him about how they would make this kingdom a better place?
"Tell the court of your relationship with the accused," the Grand Judge ordered.
Seraphina looked at Askaroth for the first time since she had entered the room, and the look was like an icy knife piercing his heart. "We… had a romantic relationship. For three years."
"And during that relationship, did the accused ever express any… questionable views toward the crown?"
For a moment, Askaroth saw a flicker of hesitation in Seraphina's eyes. A flicker of the woman he had once loved, who had once agreed with him about the rampant corruption in the palace, about how the common people suffered while the nobles feasted.
But the flicker was gone as fast as a flash.
"Yes," her voice grew louder, more certain. "he repeatedly expressed his dissatisfaction with the king's policies. he said... he said that the kingdom needed 'stronger leadership.'"
Whispers began to fill the courtroom. Askaroth felt his anger begin to boil, but not because of the false accusations. Because of the way Seraphina had twisted her words. They had indeed spoken of it before, but in a different context. They had spoken of reform, not revolution.
"Did he ever explicitly state her intention to overthrow the king?" the Grand Judge pursued.
A pause. Seraphina stared at her folded hands in her lap, and Askaroth could see the quivering of her knuckles. He could still recognize the signs when she was struggling with her conscience.
"he…" her voice was barely a whisper, "he once said that the kingdom would be better off without… without 'the parasite sitting on the throne.'"
A burst of anger from the nobles. Several of them stood up, demanding immediate execution. The Grand Judge had to smack his cane a few times to calm things down.
Askaroth felt his world crumbling. Those words had indeed been spoken before, but not about the king. They were about Duke Aldric and the other corrupt nobles who were siphoning off the wealth of the people. Seraphina knew that. She knew because she had been there, agreed with him, even added her own commentary.
Now, the woman he had once loved more than his life was using their intimate words to destroy him.
"Do you have any other evidence of the defendant's treachery?" the Grand Judge asked.
Seraphina pulled something from her dress—a small communication crystal that glowed with blue light. Askaroth recognized it. It was the one she had given him as a gift on their second anniversary.
"This is a recording of a private conversation between me and the defendant," Seraphina's voice trembled slightly. "In it, the defendant explicitly discussed his plans to... to rally support from other nobles in an attempt to overthrow the current government."
The crystal floated in the air, and Askaroth's own voice began to flow out. But what he heard shocked him—his voice sounded different, cut and rearranged to form sentences he had never uttered.
"...this king is unfit to rule...we must act...gather allies...overthrow this corrupt system..."
Manipulation. Seraphina had not only betrayed him—she had manipulated the evidence with sophisticated magic. Every word she had said was true, but it had been recast to create a different narrative.
"No," Askaroth spoke for the first time, his voice hoarse with anger. "That was not—you know that was not what I meant!"
Seraphina finally looked at him directly, and for a moment, Askaroth saw the tears that pricked the corners of her eyes. But when she spoke, her voice was cold as ice.
"I know nothing about the man I thought I loved. All I know is that he is a traitor."
The words hit Askaroth harder than the branding iron that had seared his shoulder. This was not just a betrayal of politics. This was a betrayal of the heart. The woman who had once promised to be with him through everything had now spat on that promise in front of the entire court.
"Why?" Askaroth whispered, but his voice was clear in the quiet room. "Why, Sera?"
For a moment, Seraphina's cold mask cracked. Her blue eyes gleamed with something resembling regret. But then she glanced toward the private balcony where Duke Aldric sat, and Askaroth saw something that made him understand everything.
Fear. Pure, primal fear.
They were threatening her. Whether it was House Blackthorne or her family or perhaps her own life. Seraphina did not do this out of ambition or hatred. She did this out of fear.
That understanding did not make the pain any less painful. It made it even more painful because he knew that behind this betrayal, the woman he loved was still there, caught up in a game that was bigger than the two of them.
"Thank you, Lady Seraphina," the Grand Judge nodded. "Your testimony has been recorded."
Seraphina stood, but before leaving the witness stand, she looked at Askaroth once more. Her lips moved soundlessly, forming words that only he could read: "Forgive me."
Then she was gone, leaving behind a trail of the scent of the roses he had once loved, now tinged with the stench of blood and betrayal.
Askaroth felt something strange happening in his chest. The warmth of his branding scar spread through his body, and for a moment, his vision changed. He could see the threads of fate that connected everyone in the room—lines of energy that showed who was loyal to whom, who feared whom, and who was lying.
The thread that connected him to Seraphina was still there, but it was now blood-red—the color of betrayal forced, not chosen.
The power growing within him did not respond simply to anger. It responded to truth. And the truth was that Seraphina's betrayal would be the catalyst for something far greater than mere revenge.
"With this testimony," the Grand Judge raised his staff, "the court finds sufficient evidence to—"
"Wait."
The voice came from an unexpected direction. From the visitor's balcony, a hooded figure stood. His face was hidden, but there was something about his presence that silenced the entire room.
"There is one thing the court must know," the figure's voice echoed with supernatural power. "The true identity of the man you accuse."
Duke Aldric stood hastily. "The court does not recognize the authority of—"
"I am the Last Oracle of the Order of the Crimson Veil," the figure removed her hood, revealing the face of an old woman with eyes that sparkled like stars. "And I have the right to speak in this court."
Askaroth felt his blood run cold. The Last Oracle? They had been extinct for hundreds of years. Unless…
"The man you accuse of treason," the Oracle stared straight into Askaroth's eyes, "is a direct descendant of the Bloodline of the Exiled Kings. The blood of the Shadowlord flows in his veins."
Absolute silence fell upon the room. Askaroth felt every eye on him, but what was more surprising was the reaction of his own body. The branding scar on his shoulder suddenly glowed with red light, and the power he had felt for so long began to flow more freely.
"The mark you gave him," the Oracle continued with an enigmatic smile, "was not one of treason. It was the long-lost Crown of Shadows. You did not create a traitor. You raised a true king."
Askaroth felt something fundamental shift within him. The power that coursed through his veins was no longer foreign. It was his heritage. It was his birthright.
And as his emerald green eyes began to glow with a light that was no longer entirely human, he understood that Seraphina's betrayal was not the end of his story.
It was the beginning of a resurrection that would change the world.